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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27899389">for you</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/10vesick/pseuds/10vesick'>10vesick</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>NCT (Band), WAYV</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Getting Together, Getting to Know Each Other, Love Confessions, M/M, Producer Kun, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, dancer ten</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 09:36:31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,019</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27899389</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/10vesick/pseuds/10vesick</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Every time Kun sees him is as impressive as the last.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul | Ten/Qian Kun</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>328</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>for you</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/kuntenmarried/gifts">kuntenmarried</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>written with all the love inside my heart for  <a href="https://twitter.com/kuntenmarried">kaja</a> &lt;3</p><p>thank u for thinking of me and letting he write this for u and thank u for ur patience and just everything, it was a super cute and fun idea to write and i really hope u enjoyed it 🥺🥺🥺❤️️❤️️ </p><p>kunten married in this and every timeline ❤️️</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>The watch on his wrist beeps twice when it hits 10 PM.</p><p>Kun sighs as he sits back on the chair, pulling his headphones off so they can hang at his neck. The computer screen in front of him is bright and busy with colors, displaying different music loops and samples loaded into the program he’s been working with for the past few hours. He’s built a strong enough foundation so far, made good progress with the track, and a satisfied yawn is what it takes for him to decide it’s okay to go home for tonight. He’ll continue working on this mix tomorrow.</p><p>It’s nights like these, after a long day of composing and recording, that he realizes just how much he enjoys his job. Recently, the tracks he’s produced for the company’s bigger artists have been so well received and critically praised that he can’t help but feel a little too proud of his hard work. It’s nice to know that locking himself inside these four walls until late hours of the night does pay off.</p><p>Kun knows he could clock in earlier to get out sooner, but it has never really worked before. Even though these rooms are designed to keep his music inside and unwanted noise out, there are still times when the people that scream at Yangyang for playing a prank on them are too loud, or when Hendery’s drums resonate over the sound of his piano (this last one was useful once, allowed Kun to create a cool beat he later produced for their group, but most of the time it just disturbs his concentration).</p><p>So he likes it better to come in at later hours.</p><p>It’s quiet, almost personal, and it allows him to be fully focused on the sounds he’s creating. Kun has a smaller– and a lot more modest– private set up at home he usually works well with but, for professional purposes, he likes it here. It makes him feel productive.</p><p>Stretching his arms above his head, Kun gets ready to leave. He saves his work on the computer program and turns off the big monitor in front of him, then puts away his laptop and the MIDI keyboard he’s been using to experiment with. With one last look around the room to make sure he doesn’t miss anything, the producer hangs his backpack on one shoulder and leaves the room, locking it behind him.</p><p>The halls outside are dimly lit, a few of the lights already turned off, letting know to whoever is still working at this hour (usually just Kun) that it’s time to go home. The producer walks through rows and rows of practice rooms as he heads to the exit, until he hears it– an orchestra of strings, piano, and beautiful harmonies. Music.</p><p>Someone else is still here.</p><p>Taking a few steps back, Kun looks into the room he’s just walked past, curious. It’s one of the practice rooms used for dancing and personal practice, the large one with the hardwood surface and the floor to ceiling mirrors. He’s familiar with it, walks past it almost every day when he clocks in, and it’s usually full of trainees and their instructors rehearsing for upcoming performances.</p><p>Tonight, however, it’s rather empty.</p><p>There’s only one person inside, swinging softly to the pretty melody that first drew the producer in like the call of a siren. The dancer’s body moves to it like he’s underwater– he flows and turns in graceful arcs, arms following like soothing ocean waves. Fluid and languid, he even dances with his hands, fingers twirling in complicated yet elegant patterns, knitting a web of movement that Kun finds himself caught into.</p><p>There’s no amateur flailing, no awkward faux pas, no momentary disorientation– this guy is a professional, every move of his body carefully calculated to paint a whole picture. Though he’s looking in through the glass door, Kun’s able to see that, on top of that, the dancer’s eyes are full of overwhelming emotion, too.</p><p>It keeps him mesmerized, like he doesn't know how to move anymore.</p><p>He’s hypnotized, wholeheartedly focused, not daring to miss a single movement. The swing of his arms, the bend of his legs, the graceful twirling of his body.  With a backdrop piano and two chord strings accompanying lyrics, the song ends, and so does the routine of the dancer.</p><p>Kun snaps out of it when the building goes silent. He doesn’t even know how long he’s been standing out here, staring, though it’s probably just been a few minutes. </p><p>Inside, the dancer leans down and back to stretch, reminiscent of a cat, and then walks towards the side of the room to retreat his phone. He taps on the screen a few times, slides his finger across the device, and Kun wonders if he’s going to practice the song one more time, from the beginning. </p><p>A part of him tells him to stay, to admire the beauty of the performance one last time, fearing that he won’t be able to witness something like this again. But another part of him, the most rational one, tells him no. It’s enough.</p><p>With a deep breath and a lot of willpower, Kun steps away from the door, walking away before he gets caught staring, the sound of strings and piano calling behind him, begging him to come back.</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>It’s almost 12 AM when he finishes putting together another song.</p><p>It’s simple, a rough draft, barely 2 minutes long, but he likes it. It’s a slow tempo, played only with his piano, fitting to the scene he witnessed earlier that night. Kun almost wishes the dancer could hear this song, wishes he could perform to his melody with the same kind of graceful spins, portraying all of its emotions. The image of him flowing like he’s underwater is still fresh on Kun’s mind, rippling on the surface by the need to see him again.</p><p>He posts the track on a music website he’s been using for a while now, posts it under the coded username that only his friends know.</p><p><em> This is beautiful, </em> Doyoung tells him after getting the notification of the new post. <em> How did you come up with it? </em></p><p>Kun thinks of his reply as he stares at the blinking cursor on his phone screen, and he smiles slightly at the image that comes to mind.</p><p><em> I was inspired, </em> he texts back.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>His name is Ten, and he just started working here a few weeks ago. </p><p>Kun accidentally learns this from Doyoung on a night they both stay behind to record a demo. His friend complains about the new choreographer and his deadly rehearsals, saying that he’d much rather stay at home, tucked in bed, than wake up at 6 AM for that kind of ridiculously heavy training.</p><p>It doesn’t take long for the producer to realize that Doyoung’s talking about the same dancer he saw the other night. It makes sense to him that Ten’s classes would have a certain level of difficulty– he remembers the way he carried himself as he danced, clear to anyone that he was a professional.</p><p>Kun stops by the glass door from the practice room that night again, music calling him, making the announcement that there’s something interesting happening inside. </p><p>He immediately spots Ten, dancing only with one other person as a few others look at them and cheer. It’s the same choreography he saw him dance the other night, the one with the pretty turns and the high kicks but, for some reason, the song seems to be sped up. The other dancer is good– she follows the right steps in the right way– but Ten is better. Even at this pace, there’s just <em> something </em> about the way he moves that keeps Kun focused, his eyes staying on him as he dances, and even after he’s done.</p><p>When the song ends and his audience claps, Ten breaks into a wide smile, breathing heavily, and he and his partner reunite with the others on the floor. They start flipping a bottle around, playing some kind of game where they're free of dancing at an even faster speed if they land the bottle upright. Ten is continuously failing, whining and pouting every time his bottle flops, and it makes Kun smile silently from the outside.</p><p>"You know what you’re doing is creepy, right?” someone suddenly says into his ear, making him jump. He finds Doyoung standing right behind him, raising a judging eyebrow at him. “Like, <em> so </em> creepy. You’re a creep."</p><p>Kun shoots him an annoyed glance, ears burning with embarrassment. "Shut up. I’m not doing anything," he bites back, unable to think of a comeback or reasoning that doesn't make him seem creepier than he already is. </p><p>Because he’ll admit– it probably looks like he’s stalking this coworker he doesn't really know, but that’s not how it is. He just really… Admires him? Yeah, that’s it. Ten’s a good dancer and a great performer, and Kun admires people who look like they enjoy their job.</p><p>“If you say so,” Doyoung gives him another teasing look. “Creep.”</p><p>Kun rolls his eyes, and walks away, trying to forget about his friend, the group of dancers, and the whiskers on Ten’s face that appeared whenever he smiled.</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>Every time Kun sees him is as impressive as the last.</p><p>Tonight’s performance is a little different from what he’s seen in the past few days. What was once a deep and emotional dance is now full of sharp, powerful movements. The music is different, too, a cacophony of harsh and loud sounds that demand for choreography of bigger impact. Ten’s eyes have changed, too, something taunting, almost burning, taking over them.</p><p>Once again, Kun was called by the music but kept there by the performance. He’d thought the other was good before but, tonight, he’s amazing. His body adjusts to the new beat almost naturally, following the pace like it’s no big deal. In contrast to the sweet song he was dancing to the other day, this one’s more playful, his facial features conveying that very well. </p><p>Kun almost feels his face flush when Ten rolls his body with the last few drums and strikes a pose, smirking to himself over a job well done.</p><p>It’s praise-worthy.</p><p>Trying to catch his breath, the dancer heads towards his belongings, abandoned somewhere at the corner of the room. He takes off his cap and fans himself with it for a few seconds, then drops it with the rest of his stuff and picks up a purple-colored hydro flask instead. </p><p>Having regained his composure, Kun realizes he should probably leave now, and he takes one last look at Ten before deciding to walk away.</p><p>Except that, before he gets a chance to do so, they make eye contact through the mirror.</p><p>Sharp eyes meet up with Kun’s while the dancer takes a sip of water, chest still heaving after such a performance. He puts the bottle down and smiles at Kun, and the latter honestly cannot comprehend how he can look <em> cute, </em> when not just a few seconds ago his fiery eyes were burning holes into the mirror. </p><p>Ten raises a hand to wave at him, and Kun doesn’t know whether it’s the adorable little gesture or the fact that he was caught staring that steals all the air in his lungs.</p><p>Unsure what to do, the producer simply adjusts his backpack over one shoulder and turns around, hurriedly making his way through the hall so he can walk down the stairs and get out of this place as soon as he can.</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>Kun gathers his stuff before the clock even hits 10.</p><p>It’s been a few days since the incident where he was caught staring and, since then, he hasn’t dared to stay too late at the company, scared of bumping into Ten and having to face him. He fears that, if he sees him again, he’ll want to know why he was watching him the other day, and Kun won’t know what to say and it’ll probably be worse than whatever answer he could give.</p><p>So, instead of owning up to his mistakes, he runs away from them.</p><p>But it's actually <em> so </em> hard to stay away from such a captivatingly beautiful dancer. </p><p>Some days, the producer allows himself to stay behind for a little, not to look into the practice room, but just so he can listen to the music Ten will dance to tonight. Sometimes he chooses songs that make Kun want to dance with him, to mirror his moves even though he’ll most likely fail. He doesn’t think he can be at that level of professionalism, gets goosebumps just remembering the way Ten dances– but seeing it with his own eyes is better than just thinking about it.</p><p>He wonders if he could watch tonight, just for a little bit. The song, which he heard all the way from the staircase at the other side of the hall, sounds upbeat and fun, and Kun wonders if Ten can manage to make that style his own, too (he probably can). </p><p>As he walks closer to the door, the need to take a peek grows.</p><p>But when the music stops, he remembers it– the dancer’s eyes looking back at him, slightly confused, wondering just what the hell is this stranger doing outside the practice room, watching him dance.</p><p>And if Kun has to live through that again, he’ll certainly die from embarrassment.</p><p>Just as he shakes his head and gathers up the courage to walk past the room without looking back, the door to the practice room swings open, a much too familiar face near bumping into him.</p><p>“Kun!” Winwin says, happily surprised. “I knew you worked late, but not <em> this </em> late.”</p><p>Kun releases the breath he’d sucked in. His pulse slows down as he realizes it’s his friend, the one he heard inside the practice room, with the fun music and the loud stomping on the wooden floor. It’s a surprise to see him still working until this late, but it’s a nice one. “I could say the same about you.”</p><p>Winwin scoffs, gesturing towards the room behind him. “Ah, I was just showing Ten a few adjustments on our new choreography,” he complains, and Kun’s heart skips a beat at the mention of the name. Is he here? Is he in there? “He’s as annoying about working late as you are. Have you met him already?”</p><p>“Well, I–”</p><p>“I’m ready, Winwinnie,” a voice sing-songs behind his friend, followed by the owner walking out of the practice room with a sling bag over his shoulder.</p><p>And, like that, Kun meets eyes with Ten for the second time.</p><p>It’s somehow worse than the first, because this time the dancer’s much, much closer. In under a second, Kun registers things about the other that he hadn’t been able to notice before– like the cat-like shape of his eyes, the mole under one of them, the slope of his nose.</p><p>Or how pretty he is.</p><p>“Hi,” Ten greets, almost like this is his first time seeing Kun. Does he not remember? Could he not see him clearly the other day? The other doesn’t know, just stands there frozen as Ten pulls at Winwin’s ear. “Aren’t you going to introduce us?”</p><p>The younger doesn’t seem faced by the action, which tells that Ten must do that often. “Yeah, okay. Kun, this is Ten, the new choreographer,” Winwin says, and the other dancer bows his head politely and gives him a smile that, for some reason, sends a chill running down Kun’s back. “Ten, this is Kun, one of our best producers.”</p><p>Kun feels his face burn at the introduction. “Ha… I don’t know about <em>best</em>.”</p><p>“Are you kidding? The company’s most popular songs are all yours.”</p><p>“Winwin...”</p><p>Ten raises an eyebrow, something peculiar in his eyes. “Modest. That’s cute.”</p><p>He holds eye contact with Kun as he says that, the same chilling smile adorning his lips. It almost makes him feel like he knows something about the other that not everybody knows– his fears, a secret, an embarrassing experience. </p><p>It makes Kun gulp.</p><p>“Are you heading out?” Winwin’s voice suddenly asks, curious.</p><p>Kun shakes his head, snapping out of the Ten-trance he seems to have slipped in, wondering if they noticed. He hopes they didn’t. “Y- Yeah, actually. I just finished my work so I’m going home now.”</p><p>“Us too!” Ten says cheerfully, putting an arm over Winwin’s shoulders to pull him close and emphasize his point. ”Where are you headed?”</p><p>“We take the same bus,” Winwin replies for him, unknowingly saving Kun from embarrassing himself even further.</p><p>Ten arches his eyebrows. “Oh, cool! My apartment’s right near the bus station. Walk with us.”</p><p>He declares it, like the other doesn’t have a choice, but even if he’d asked Kun would’ve had a hard time telling him no. </p><p>So he simply nods, and his heart skips a beat when Ten slips his free arm over his shoulders, the other one still holding Winwin, and he pulls him close, too.</p><p>Together, embraced by the smaller of the three, they walk outside of the company building and into the windy night. Their destination isn’t too far, just a few blocks down the street, but Kun feels like he holds in his breath the whole time. </p><p>Ten presses against him and engages in conversation with impressive confidence, treating him like he’s met him for over 5 years instead of just 5 minutes. It helps that Winwin’s there, though– the older can pretend he’s talking to him alone, as he tries to ignore the melodic sound of the other’s laugh whenever he accidentally says something that makes him crack up.</p><p>They walk for about 5 more minutes before an apartment complex stands tall above them, just a few steps behind Kun and Winwin’s bus stop. </p><p>“Well, this is me,” Ten says as he points to the building next to them, sounding almost disappointed. He turns to Winwin. “Thanks for helping me tonight. I know you don’t usually work this late.”</p><p>The younger shakes his head. “It’s okay. If you need anything else text me.”</p><p>Ten smiles brightly and nods, once again reaching out to pinch Winwin’s ear affectionately. </p><p>Then he turns to Kun.</p><p>“Pleasure meeting you tonight,” he says, politely bowing his head like he didn’t just spend the last five minutes holding onto him. There’s still a small smile on his face as he addresses him, but there’s something curious about it. Something almost kittenish. “I hope we can run into each other again soon.”</p><p>Did Kun imagine it, or did Ten wink at him?</p><p>He can’t entirely process it before the dancer says goodbye, giving them one last wave before walking away and disappearing into the building. The night is quiet once again after he’s gone, and Kun’s eyes remain on the spot where he used to stand as Winwin turns around to look at him and suggest they get to their bus stop before they miss the next one.</p><p>“... Kun ge,” the younger says instead, and the way he’s looking at him– like he’s trying hard not to laugh– makes Kun think he knows what he’s about to point out next. “Your ears are <em> so </em> red.”</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>If there’s something Kun’s consistent on, is making dumb choices.</p><p>He doesn’t know why he thinks this is a good idea, but he finds himself before glass doors again, looking into the practice room like he’s looking for something. Someone.</p><p>When he finds him, Kun immediately freezes. </p><p>Not only has all air left his lungs, but he honestly thinks he’ll never be able to breathe again. </p><p>It's not even the semi-erotic performance the dancer’s giving, or his lack of a shirt, but his gaze. His far-off, hazy gaze draws him in, inviting as he sways his hips, hands running up and down his body, fingers carding through his hair to slide down his throat and linger around his neck. Kun swallows, grip tightening on the strap of his backpack.</p><p>And then, through the mirror, eye contact with Ten once again.</p><p>The producer just about bursts, ears immediately burning with nothing but embarrassment.  Ten freaking <em> smirks </em> at him, biting his bottom lip with his perfect white teeth before tilting his head up to the ceiling, dainty fingers accentuating his long, bared neck, and he falls to his knees as the song ends.</p><p>A heart-stopping performance.</p><p>Ten gets up from off the floor and stretches his limbs, smiling, seemingly satisfied with the show he just gave. It’s not until he takes a sip of water and puts his shirt back on that Kun breaks free from the spell, and he realizes he’s still standing there, staring.</p><p>He sees Ten giggle and gesture him inside, cat eyes gone soft again, smile bright. Kun coughs, trying to find the breath he lost while watching the other perform, trying to force his heart to go back to its regular rhythm.</p><p>He pulls the door open and walks in, awkwardly clearing his throat as he looks for something to say. Ten, however, is faster than him.</p><p>"How was it?" he playfully asks, still a little out of breath. </p><p>"Amazing," Kun replies a beat too quickly, and the dancer laughs at his hasty answer. “I mean… It was good. It was great. Sorry I was watching.”</p><p><em> God, </em>he needs to stop talking. One more word and Kun’s pride and dignity will completely crumble.</p><p>"Thank you, and don’t worry about it," Ten says, his smile a little unsettling. He unplugs his phone from the speakers and gathers his stuff from the floor, calmly, like he doesn’t have a care in the world. “It’s not the first time you watch, anyway, is it?”</p><p>Yeah... Kun’s pride and dignity? Non-existent.</p><p>He’s at a loss for words, completely taken off guard by the comment. </p><p>So he knows? How many other times has Ten known Kun was there, watching? Maybe he’s been trying to confront him about it for a while now, but couldn’t do it the other day for Winwin’s sake. Maybe that’s why he’s pretended they’d never seen each other. Maybe now that they’re alone, he’ll ask Kun what the hell is his problem, or tell him to leave him alone. </p><p>The producer prepares himself for the worst. He tears his eyes off the floor and looks at the dancer, checking if there are traces of annoyance or hostility on his face. </p><p>Instead, when he looks into Ten’s eyes, they’re nothing but playful.</p><p>"Don’t look so mortified, I was just teasing you," Ten says, walking over to him to pat his shoulder with a reassuring grin. “I don’t mind, I’ve just noticed you looking a few times.”</p><p>Kun nods, a little embarrassed. "I like watching you," he mumbles, and it isn’t until Ten’s eyes widen in both surprise and amusement, that he registers just how fucking creepy that sounds. “Dance, I mean. I like watching you dance.”</p><p>The dancer lets out a laugh, loud and pretty. “Well, I’m flattered... But it seems kind of unfair,” he sighs dramatically, making Kun fear for what he’s about to say. “You’ve seen my work but I haven’t been able to hear yours.”</p><p>“... Sorry?”</p><p>“You’re a producer, aren’t you? I mean, sure, I’ve heard the songs you make for the company, but,” Ten shrugs, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “Do you ever make any just for yourself?”</p><p>The question catches Kun off guard. “Yeah. Sometimes.”</p><p>“You should let me listen someday.”</p><p>For a moment, Kun’s face is blank with confusion, like his brain cogs can’t turn fast enough to take in the information. Then it hits him, like a bucket of iced water over his head, that Ten wants to do the same he’s been doing, to hear the kind of music he writes for himself, in secret, when no one’s supposed to be looking.</p><p>If only he knew.</p><p>“Oh,” Kun lets out, his voice coming out an octave higher than usual. He clears his throat. “Sure, yeah… You can listen… Some day,” he mumbles, fidgeting with the zipper of his jacket, not sure what to do next. Ten simply stands in front of him, giving him that unsettling smile again. “So… I have to… I have to go.”</p><p>He doesn’t even wait for the other to say something, just immediately turns around, desperate to get to the exit and stop feeling like his whole face is burning.</p><p>“Kun,” Ten suddenly calls, before he can go too far. </p><p>“... Yes?”</p><p>He doesn’t turn around to look, but he can almost <em> hear </em> the smile still lingering on the dancer’s face. When he speaks next, it sends a chill running down Kun’s spine.</p><p>“Would you like to grab some dinner with me?”</p><p>
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</p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>Dinner with Ten is everything Kun imagined it to be– and a little more.</p><p>Turns out the dancer is easier to talk to than he’d expected, but he’s also a lot more playful. There’s hardly a moment where Kun’s ears aren’t red from the things Ten says, and after a main course filled with mischievous jokes and teaseful remarks, he finds himself bickering with the other like they’re long time friends just catching up.</p><p>Ten is a thoughtful guy, though, Kun learns. Most of their conversation may have been silly at first glance, about movies or TV shows and the characters in them, but Ten is insightful about them in a casual way that is actually rather endearing. He gives him an almost 15-minute rant about all the wonderful things in Studio Ghibli films, including– but not limited to– their beautiful world-building, their delightfully simple yet complex female protagonists, and how <em> they convey bold messages in a very entertaining and effortless manner </em>. </p><p>It's rather... adorable, actually, how much thought he puts into it.</p><p>They talk about inconsequential things, but other things too. Not really the deep, soul-baring kind of conversations Kun sometimes has with Doyoung when it’s 3 AM and they’re writing lyrics together, but rather little tidbits of personal information in between other things. Kun finds out that Ten knows Hendery from a long time, and that he’s just moved into his apartment after getting fired from his last job (<em> Creative differences between me and my boss, </em> he explains), and the producer himself shares about how he’s lived alone most of his life ( <em> Doesn’t it get lonely? </em>the other asks, but Kun doesn’t reply. Ten has no idea).</p><p>Before either of them knows it, their food is gone and it’s time to go home. </p><p>Ten asks for the check and, as soon as it comes, he slips the money in and pays for their meal, not even giving Kun the chance to ask how much to pull out his wallet. He tries to protest, but all he gets it’s <em> You’ll pay next time </em>, and the promise of tonight happening again.</p><p>They walk home together, stop right in front of the bus stop near Ten’s apartment, and the dancer says goodbye by kissing Kun on the cheek. </p><p>It’s short, quick, friendly, and he walks away with a big smile on his face.</p><p>It makes Kun want to write a song about it.</p><p>
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</p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>They don’t know how, but walking home together becomes a routine.</p><p>They walk home together the next day after having dinner, not even planning to, just happy to bump into each other in the hall.</p><p>They walk home together days later, when they aren’t done bickering after their respective practices, and they continue walking out of the company, trading comebacks until it becomes less of an argument and more of a competition for who can outsmart the other (Ten wins).</p><p>They walk home together the next week, when Kun notices Ten limping a little after landing wrong from a triple turn, and the producer helps him all the way to the entrance of his apartment to make sure that it doesn’t get any worse.</p><p>They walk home the day after, and the day after that, and suddenly walking home together becomes part of their daily routine.</p><p>Every night, both men lock themselves inside their practice rooms and set their minds to work. They don’t rush to wrap up soon, don’t need to, because each of them will wait until the other’s done so they can leave together. Sometimes Ten will enter the music room with cups of coffee for both of them, and lay on the little couch at the corner of the room until Kun’s done editing a sample. Other times, Kun will slip into the practice room and help Ten film his choreography, praising him a little along the way.</p><p>They don’t know how, but they become close in a matter of days.</p><p>Ten sends the songs he can’t stop listening to on the daily, and Kun listens to all of them without missing one, getting a good idea of the dancer’s taste so he can recommend similar artists.</p><p>He doesn’t let him hear his own tracks, though. </p><p>Ten complains about it nearly almost every day, pouting and threatening to ban him from his practice room, but Kun doesn’t budge. He doesn’t know what he’d do if the other ever found out that most– if not all– of his recent works talk about…</p><p>Well, about the dancer himself.</p><p>Because Kun doesn’t know how, but Ten becomes all there is on his mind.</p><p>He realizes one night, hours after he’s come back home from the company. Without really paying much attention, he starts working on a new song, the melody almost mixing on his own. His hands move faster than his brain can process it, and in under an hour Kun has a 3 minute long R&amp;B kind of song that he’s also put some lyrics into. The genre is not something he usually works with, but he feels pretty proud of it. It’s relaxed, cool, yet still emotional.</p><p>And it reminds him of Ten.</p><p>Kun saves the finished product, trying to ignore the last bit of his thoughts, and decides to post it online. Presses 'Upload'. Add track. Basic info. Title.</p><p>He finds himself staring at the blinking cursor on his screen, waiting for him to type the words that’ll name this song. Normally, he doesn’t think too much about these–most of the tracks on his profile simply read stuff like <em> Practice1 </em> or <em> Sunday Mix </em>– but this one’s particularly hard to name. </p><p>This one has a deeper meaning to it.</p><p>Shaking his head, the producer lets his fingers type in whatever they can come up with. Something simple, but straight to the point, appears on the screen right before his eyes, and it’s surprising even to himself but he doesn't mind. He likes it.</p><p>He clicks on ‘Save’, waits a few seconds for the screen to change and, once it does, he takes a deep breath.</p><p>Kun doesn’t know how, but Ten becomes all there is on his mind.</p><p>Upload complete.</p><p>Title:<em> For him. </em></p><p>
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</p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>He wonders what tonight’s dance will be like. </p><p>Will it be a sweet, emotional piece like the first one he witnessed? Or a strong, fun performance with a lot of jumping and popping?</p><p>It’s always a mystery with Ten, and Kun kind of likes not knowing what to expect. </p><p>He makes his way towards the same practice room he visits almost every night, fingers crossed that the other’s not done yet. It’s become one of his favorite things to do, the one he looks forward to the most–  being able to watch Ten dance, execute the moves flawlessly, tell stories with his body that words alone may not be able to. It’s the highlight of his week.</p><p>But when he gets there tonight, there’s no music, and there’s no performance.</p><p>Instead, Ten sits at the corner of the room, his back against the mirror, and he seems to be writing on a sketchbook. His tongue is sticking out from between his lips and his brows are slightly furrowed, uttermost concentration on his pen and paper. He’s got earphones in, plugged into his phone by a long wire, and he doesn’t notice Kun entering the practice room until he’s practically in front of him.</p><p>Taking both earbuds out, Ten smiles at him.</p><p>“Hey! You’re done early tonight,” he notices, inviting the other to sit down by patting the floor next to him. </p><p>Shaking away the jumble of fireworks that his smile sets on his heart, Kun nods and does as he’s told, sitting down with caution. “You too?”</p><p>Ten moves his hand in a gesture that says <em> kind of. </em>“I decided to work on formation and positions tonight, I’m almost done,” he scooches over to Kun to show him his notebook, their thighs and arms pressing together.</p><p>His face burns red, but Kun forces himself to focus on Ten’s notes. </p><p>The paper’s a mess filled with scratches, smudges, and small stick figures that he could picture the other doodling while he figured the next step to his choreography. There’s a few X’s in different formations that mark specific spots for each dancer, and Kun knows the dotted lines show the direction in which they’re supposed to move to switch places but, other than that, he’s pretty clueless about what it all means.</p><p>“Does this make sense to you?” Ten asks.</p><p>Kun makes the mistake of turning his head. </p><p>He faces the other, their noses bumping from how close they’re sitting. Ten smirks ever so slightly before nudging him to turn his attention back to the notebook, and Kun snaps his head back, forcing himself to not get flustered. It’s impossible when all of his senses are suddenly on overdrive, but he does his best to give a reply. </p><p>“Not at all.”</p><p>He might have sounded a little dumb, but the big smile that appears on the other’s face makes it worth it.</p><p>“It’s fine, I made it extra complicated on purpose. It’s just for practice, anyway,” he says, putting one of his earbuds back in. “I’ll listen to the song one last time so I can go through all of this. Then we can go. Is that okay?”</p><p>Kun nods, not really in a hurry.</p><p>Without expecting it, he feels a hand near his face, and suddenly there’s an earbud slipped into his own ear.</p><p>Leave it to Ten to not set him aside, not even when he’s busy.</p><p>The dancer takes his phone and slides his finger through the screen, rewinding it from the last time he played the song so they can listen to it from the beginning. It starts within a second, the combination of strings and drums pleasant to Kun’s ears from the first few seconds.</p><p>“What song is this?” he asks, and immediately curses at himself for talking while the other’s working.</p><p>Ten doesn’t seem to mind, though. “It’s a mix by an independent artist. There’s this one music website I like lurking around from time to time,” he says nonchalantly, scribbling a few extra indications on his notebook. “I can send you the link to this playlist if you’d like.”</p><p>The producer nods, determined to stay quiet and not distract him again.</p><p>Kun waits, slightly drumming his fingers over his knees, following the beat he’s listening to. It gives him a few ideas, makes him want to experiment with this kind of genre, and he makes a mental note to look for samples when he gets home.</p><p>After a few minutes, Ten looks satisfied at his notebook, nodding at the complicated scribbles on it as the song ends by decreasing in volume like an old 90s boyband kind of track.</p><p>Immediately, by default, the next song starts playing, a familiar prominent bassline that Kun has definitely heard recently.</p><p>“Oh, this one’s one of my favorites,” Ten says, hand quickly going for his phone to press the button at the side, the one that turns the volume up. </p><p>It sounds like a pop song at first, but elements from house and urban-dance are quick to merge in, making it very high energy. The dancer starts moving his head to the beat, enjoying himself, completely oblivious of the way Kun has gone completely still next to him, hit with a realization.</p><p>He’s definitely heard this before.</p><p>He produced this.</p><p>“Actually, I think you’d like what this guy does,” Ten near yells, the music too loud on the earphones. “I found this song by accident last month and I started following him. His music is <em> so </em> good, it’s inspired me so many times. Here, let me show you another one by him.”</p><p>He unlocks his phone while everything comes crashing down on Kun. </p><p><em> There’s this one music website I like lurking around from time to time, </em>the dancer had said. </p><p>A music website, with Kun’s song on it.</p><p>
  <em> I started following him. </em>
</p><p>For over a month, Ten has been seeing what’s been posted on this one profile.</p><p>
  <em> Let me show you another one by him. </em>
</p><p>Kun knows all of them by heart now. He’s spent countless hours working on them, mixing them, writing them for...</p><p>“No,” he blurts out, pulling out his earbud. “I mean, that’s not necessary, I–”</p><p>Ten sucks in a breath. “<em> Holy shit. </em>”</p><p>All blood drains from the producer’s body. “... What?”</p><p>“He posted a new track yesterday, I hadn’t noticed!” the other’s eyes light up. When he reads the song title out loud, Kun can almost feel himself grow faint. “<em> For him… </em>Should we listen to it together?”</p><p>“I don’t...”</p><p>But the dancer isn’t listening, taking the earbud from Kun’s hands and putting it back into his ear, fingers tapping on the play button on the screen.</p><p>And the song Kun posted the day before starts playing. </p><p>He holds his breath the entire time, too scared to make even the slightest of movements.  The R&amp;B ballad should have a chill, calming effect, but it’s doing the exact opposite for him. It sounds loud, way too loud inside his head, and he almost feels like asking Ten to turn it down, but he can’t. His voice won’t come out.</p><p>He can simply watch as a sweet smile appears on Ten’s lips, and the dancer closes his eyes momentarily, enjoying each and every single second of the song. He swings slightly from side to side, listening closely, focused on the little harmonies Kun added near the end.</p><p>After a minute, 60 seconds that feel like an eternity to Kun, it’s over.</p><p>Ten stops his phone from reproducing something else so he can process what he just heard, in silence. </p><p>“That was… That was amazing. Kind of nostalgic, too,” he mumbles, like he’s entranced. He stares at the song title for a few seconds, like trying to decipher it’s meaning. “<em> For him </em>,” he repeats. “This guy must be very special to this user.”</p><p><em> You are </em>, Kun almost feels like saying.</p><p>But he can’t.</p><p>He simply sits very, very still, wishing the ground to open up and swallow him whole.</p><p>“God, I wish this happened to me,” Ten suddenly says, still staring down. His eyes look a little unfocused, almost like he’s talking to himself, like he’s forgotten he’s got company. “Can you imagine? Being so loved by someone they make a song for you? Like... No matter what it says, no matter who listens to it... You’d still know it’s only for you.”</p><p>Ten turns around to meet eyes with him, and they’re still close, <em> so </em> close, and Kun wants to say something, anything, but the words get stuck in his throat.</p><p>One second. Two.</p><p>At the third, for some strange reason, Ten’s cheeks turn bright red, like he’s just realized what he said. </p><p>“I mean…Y-You know, like– What am I saying?” he lets out a nervous laugh, shaking his head. With clumsy hands, he yanks the earphone off both of them and starts gathering his stuff, shoving his notebook into his sling bag, stumbling to his feet. “I don’t know. Forget it. Shall we go home?”</p><p>Kun doesn’t want to forget it, but he nods against his will and stands up.</p><p>They walk home together that night, too.</p><p>It’s the first time it ever feels awkward.</p><p>
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</p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>A new day comes and, with it, so does rain.</p><p>Ten pouts at the water hitting his window, upset that he can’t go practice today. Hendery took their only good umbrella with him, and the dancer’s not willing to risk catching a cold by leaving the apartment and walking under the rain. Besides, there’s something about stormy weather that completely drains his energy, and so he stays at home, thinks of having a warm drink, and sits on the couch.</p><p>Louis wastes no time as he climbs up and nuzzles into his owner’s lap, purring slightly at the warmth he finds there. Ten scratches the cat’s little head as he scrolls down his phone, looking for something he can focus on while drinking his cup of coffee. Social media welcomes him with nothing but pictures and videos of the rain outside, from different angles and different places, and it gets a little too boring a little too fast. </p><p>Ten slides his finger through the screen to check notifications– a few likes on an Instagram post, a mention on Twitter, a text from his sister– and he gives a little gasp as a new one appears right before his eyes.</p><p>
  <em> xd11xd posted a new track. </em>
</p><p>He jumps on his seat and quickly taps on it, the sudden action scaring Louis away from his lap. Ten sets his cup down on the coffee table in front of him, suddenly too focused on this, and the application takes forever to load but, when it does, the familiar soundwave screen welcomes him to the new song.</p><p>
  <em> For you. </em>
</p><p>Ten’s cheeks burn red as he reads the title, almost as if it was specifically aimed at him.</p><p>He knows it’s ridiculous to think that, but he can’t help the way his heart goes wild before he even presses play. </p><p>The song starts slow, simple, with a piano composition that makes a dumb smile appear on his face. It reminds him of the kind of music he usually listens to when he’s relaxing, and he closes his eyes and lets the melody caress him. It’s just the kind of song that he’d listen to on repeat, and he can already picture himself playing it on loop for the next few days.</p><p>Then comes the singing, and Ten sinks a little deeper into the couch.</p><p>It’s like he’s being whispered into his ear, the voice <em> so </em>familiar it’s almost scary. The lyrics are of the sweetest kind, if only a little bittersweet, and they’re short but straightforward. They talk about very, very strong feelings for someone, but also the fear of confessing them out loud. The melody is slow, emotional, and Ten listens to it closely, focusing on what the voice is singing, on the feelings poured out between the words. </p><p>They’re simple, could be easily said to anyone, but something about them makes Ten feel like they’re aimed at <em> him </em>.</p><p>For him.</p><p>Ten drops his phone.</p><p>His brain stutters for a moment, every part of him frozen while his thoughts catch up. The past few days flash through his mind, like thousands of camera frames per second shown one at a time. He remembers little details, small conversations, and he’s suddenly unable to think of anything else, totally stunned as the possibility bounces around inside his skull.</p><p>Is it really…?</p><p>Desperately reaching down to retrieve his phone, not even stopping to check if it didn’t crack with the drop, Ten unlocks it. He slides through the screen, taps a hundred times on the contact app he’s looking for, and then scrolls down and taps once more on the name his mind can’t get rid of.</p><p>After 15 seconds of leg bouncing and dial tones, Kun doesn’t pick up.</p><p>Ten curses at him under his breath, tries again a few more times. None of them come through.</p><p>So there’s only one more thing to do.</p><p>He stumbles outside the apartment in a hurry, almost forgetting his keys inside. He doesn’t even notice he’s slipped into different shoes– one of his regular black ones, the other a pink one that belongs to Hendery– but he doesn’t care. </p><p>All he cares about is finding Kun.</p><p>He lifts up a hand to cover himself as soon as he’s out of the building, feeling drops of water hit him as they come down. Except, not just down. It’s more like someone had released countless droplets of rain and they were free-floating, coming from all directions and angles. It’s almost like there’s no up and down or right and left. He runs through the slippery streets, not caring when the wetness starts to seep in through the material of the shoes. </p><p>He just needs to get there, as soon as possible. He has to be there.</p><p>Ten squints through the floating rain as he gets closer and closer to the place he’s been looking for. Never before had he noticed how time is so much like water– that it can pass slowly, a drop at a time, even freeze, or rush by in a blink– as he gets to the company in half the time it usually takes him to. </p><p>He bursts through the doors in a hurry, not completely drenched but almost, getting water into the entrance and down the halls as he makes his way through. He doesn’t bother greeting the few other people that are still at the company at this hour, and doesn't care that they look at him like they want to ask if he’s okay. He can only focus on one thing at the moment.</p><p>He has to be here, please let him be here.</p><p>It takes him a second to reach the music room, and Ten doesn’t even stop to think of what he’ll do or what he’ll say. He doesn’t even consider the possibility of someone else being here that isn’t Kun. His thoughts race inside his mind, all dots connected and all clues found.</p><p>And when he swings the door open, he finds him.</p><p>Kun stares at him, nothing short of scared as he turns around. He looks frightened, guilty even, like he’s been caught doing something he shouldn't do, and his mouth starts moving like he wants to say something but doesn’t know what.</p><p>Before he can even get something out, Ten walks over to him and closes the remaining distance between them, cradling Kun’s face in his hands and leaning down to silence him with a searing kiss.</p><p>Kun feels the cold of Ten’s hands around his cheeks, the little droplets of water connecting with his skin– but he doesn’t care about that. He cares about the burning touch on his face and neck, about the way Ten’s mouth moves over his, warm and soft. Kun melts into him, his arms slipping around the other’s back, hands fisting bunches of his wet sweater. </p><p>They don’t pull away until they have, to until it’s absolutely necessary, and they rest their foreheads against each other as they gasp out for air.</p><p>“You know?” Kun asks softly, almost inaudible, not daring to look at the other.</p><p>Ten rolls his eyes. “No. I just felt the need to run under the rain to come kiss you for no reason at all,” he gives him a little smirk, bumping his nose into Kun’s. “Of course I know. You really thought I wouldn’t notice?”</p><p>“I was hoping you would, actually,” Kun mumbles. He finally met his eyes, a vague grin accompanying the deep red blush on his cheeks. </p><p>He’s so cute Ten almost wants to tease him.</p><p>Instead, he just smiles and goes for another kiss, pressing his lips against the other’s again, slow and experimental. Time stops, the air around them stays still, and he can feel Kun’s heart drumming against his own chest, beating at a regular rhythm that reminds Ten of a song. He smiles into the kiss.</p><p>A song written especially for him.</p>
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